


The Co-Worker

by The_Whip_Hand_81



Category: British Actor RPF, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, Dancing, Dirty Talk, Erotica, F/M, First Time, Hotel Sex, Oral Sex, Smut, sexy heels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 19:47:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Whip_Hand_81/pseuds/The_Whip_Hand_81
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have a thing for the hot new British guy at the office. Tonight is your night for him to notice you, if only you can pull away from the baggy clothes and social awkwardness long enough to find your confidence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Co-Worker

**Author's Note:**

> *Best read with the song "Any time, Any Place" by Janet Jackson. Trust me, it works.
> 
> The title is weak, but it's my first fanfic in 10 years, so comments would be greatly appreciated! Thanks!
> 
> Also, this is dedicated to my best friend who has always encouraged me to write again. Thank you, D.

Clearly, something is wrong. 

You are wearing a black lacy cocktail dress with platform-spiked heels. You spent hours on your hair and now you’re fumbling with the pitch-black eyeliner to make the perfect cat eye. You know something is wrong, because you hate wearing anything that isn’t baggy fabrics hanging off your limbs. Since puberty you always chose comfort over painful beauty traditions. Nary one to ever wear makeup nor do anything lady-like, you’ve coped to learn to love the curvaceous body you were given by hiding it under layers and layers of sweaters and saggy jeans. And, thankfully, the office allows you to dress in undesirable plain slacks and cardigans. You are not one to feel comfortable wearing anything that attracts the opposite sex’s attention. You’re wonderfully awkward as a matter of fact. That is, until, three months ago.

“Why am I doing this to myself? Why, Lord, WHY?” you exhale as you nearly poke your cornea with the mascara brush.

You know exactly why, because he’s going to be there. “He” as in that extremely hot Englishman that started working at your office three months ago. From what you’ve gathered from your terribly short small-talks every morning with him in the office kitchen area for the past three months is that he loves the theater, children, a good wine/cigar every now and then and he’s single. The small talks never allow much time for details and specificity. But, boy, do you try to stretch those moments whenever you can. 

Benedict is his name and it always reminds you of eggs. “I love eggs,” you sigh to yourself every so often throughout the day because it reminds you of Benedict. You’ve made the mental tie-in joke of eggs Benedict so much that you accidentally greeted him one morning, “Hello, Eg—Benedict!” To which he gave you a smirk as he walked passed you in the lobby, your whole face turned red as you nervously fiddled with your glasses.

Tonight, though, tonight is going to be different. You waited a month for this night. You planned everything that was going to happen and everything that you were going to say to him. Tonight, Benedict is all yours and with this outfit and your awesome confidence he is going to be putty in your hands . . .if your confidence would just come out of hiding for once. But, you are going to fake it ‘till you make it! You give yourself a look in the full body mirror, moving your hands smoothly over your newly discovered curves and smile to yourself. You take a deep breath, “Come on, girl. You can do this.” You turn around to walk out into the world with clutch in hand and trip over your foot, falling to the floor. 

*

You arrive at the hotel where the company party was being held. The party is located inside one of the rented halls on the ground floor, a rather decent sized ballroom. It was a going to be a big party after all; co-workers and their family and friends were also invited so you were pretty much going to be lost in a crowd, which means it is going to be difficult to find your Benny. 

Crap, you thought to yourself as you stood by the entrance of the ballroom and saw all your co-workers looking nicely dressed and mingling with one another. You people-watch for a bit while you sneakily try to extract your thong from out your bum leaning ever so slightly against the wall. ‘Why did I wear this, again?’ you shout in your brain when a towering shadow appears next to you against the wall.

“Well, don’t you look absolutely gorgeous tonight,” a baritone accent spoke. 

Startled, you jump straight up from fixing your wedgie, “Eg—Eeey, Benedict!” You turn to face him, your heart pounding in your throat (as it always does). 

Benedict is wearing all black; black button down shirt, black slacks and jacket. The shirt’s top three buttons are open and he seems to not be wearing a tie tonight. At work he always wears a suit of some kind with a tie. Tie or no tie, he looked sexy as all Hell. His short brown hair falling slightly onto his forehead and his smoldering grey eyes seem to be glistening extra brightly in that dimly lit dance hall. His hands were stuffed into his trouser pockets as he looks at you up and down, making your knees all wobbly. Every part of your body his eyes lands on feels on fire from his gaze. Gave you both butterflies AND lady-wood [Writer’s note: my interpretation of female erection =)]. 

You stammer, nervously, “You don’t look so bad yourself.” Then you begin what was going to the reveal, “You know, I was hoping to–“ 

“Oh my God! Benny, Mr. Sexy, over here!” a loud shrieking voice interrupted what was going to be your epic speech to him. It was Marnie, your highly annoying (and highly sexed) co-worker who always tries to steal your thunder whenever Benedict is around. Marnie has been gunning for him since he first walked through the office doors months ago. It is almost as if she knows you like Benedict so she tries to interrupt your small talks and make you look the fool every time she butts in on your private conversations with him. You hate her. The exact opposite of you in every way; clambering for attention from any thing with a penis, she was there to wreck your evening. Wearing a mini skirt that reached the bottom of her buttocks and a plunging neckline, Marnie was set to gain Benedict’s attention. 

Marnie throws her arms around Benedict’s neck and places a kiss on his cheek as you watch on in despair. “You need to dance with me right now, Benny. This is my song!” Before Benedict could protest, she drags him roughly away from you and onto the dance floor. He glances back at you as Marnie continued to wrap her arms around his neck, bringing him closer to her. She pulled his face to look at her. You sigh, your heart deflating. 

“Just like high school all over again,” you exhale. You begin to carry a full dialogue in your head as you sulk at the sidelines of the dance floor.  
“Just once I want a tall, intelligent, super hot guy to come along and take notice of me without me doing all the work. A British accent wouldn’t hurt, either. I deserve it, don’t I? I mean, I’ve been single forever and I know I have high standards but that’s good for a woman to have in times like these, right??”

Suddenly, a tall, super hot man with dark curly hair and facial scruff walks over to you and begins rambling in a most gentle English accent, “Excuse me, but I’ve noticed you in the office for quite some time now and I think you’re beautiful and I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a long time – “ 

You snapped, “Beat it, Hiddleston! I’ve got problems you can’t even imagine right now, okay?” He walks away with his head hanging low. ‘What the Hell is his problem? Geez, that Tom can be so annoying sometimes.’

The song was finally over and the mood went back to mellow as the DJ plays some 80s music. A small crowd of your fellow co-workers plus Marnie was now following Benedict as he is making his way to you. You pretend you were having a great ol’ time by yourself as you swiped a champagne glass from a passing waiter, downing the glass in two swallows. You put on a brave smile as your co-workers greet you and they all shout compliments about your dress. Well, except Marnie, of course.

“You look so pretty!” exclaimed Jessie.  
“Wow, you look different without your glasses. Your makeup looks great!” observed Claire.  
“You have to lend me that dress one day,” declared Joyce.  
“Who knew you had that much ass underneath all those layers. And your rack looks good, too,” sexist Mark complimented. Douche. 

Benedict gives you a smile, “Doesn’t she look fantastic?” His smile making creases at the ends of his eyes, just above his cheekbones. You love those smiley creases, makes you smile. 

You feel your face get warm and hope your blushing isn’t visible in the dark when Benedict grabs two glasses from a passing waiter and hands one to you. 

“Drink up, darling, we’re dancing to the next song” his lips close to your ear sending shiver down your spine and into your lady parts. Dancing? You don’t dance. You mostly just stand there and bob your head from side to side but you NEVER dance. You have no rhythm, two left feet – and especially in these heels! ‘Shit! What am I going to do?’ you scream inside your head.

Before you knew it, you snatched the drink from Marnie’s hand and downed her champagne, too, when a slow song came on. “Any time, Any Place” by Janet Jackson or, as you like to call it, “A Great Slow Song to Fuck to.” [Seriously, YouTube it.]

Your eyes shot wide open and looked over at Benedict who gave a devilish grin while he gently grabs your hand. Your knees are rubber; your heeled feet are trying to keep up with his. He slowly leads you away from your co-workers and into the middle of the crowded dance floor. His eyes burning into yours as he pulls you into him as the song kicks off:

 

In the thundering rain  
you stare into my eyes  
I can feel your hand moving up my thighs  
skirt around my waist  
wall against my face  
I can feel your lips

 

Your arms are wrapped around the back of his neck as his hands are on the small of your back. Benedict’s hooded eyes are staring down at your face, his tongue peeks out to lick his bottom lip and you can feel his body heat radiate into yours. ‘Is this really happening?’ 

I don’t wanna stop just because  
people walkin' by are watchin 'us  
I don’t give a damn what they think  
I want you now  
I don’t wanna stop just because  
you feel so good inside of my love  
I'm not gonna stop no no no  
I want you all I wanna say is

Anytime, anyplace I don't care who's around  
anytime, and any place I don't care who's around

Your mind is clouded by multiple glasses of champagne and sex. You can feel your thong get increasingly moist as he holds you tighter. You can feel his heart pounding through his black jacket. You feel something else pulsating against your right upper thigh. He’s hard and that just awoken your sleeping confidence. You’re feeling sexy now. Make it happen. 

Dancing on the floor  
feelin' the slow groove  
my mind is starting to burn  
with forbidden thoughts  
strangers all around  
with the lights down low  
’I was thinking maybe we could...well you know’

As the chorus starts again, you slowly spin yourself around and press your backside into Benedict’s front. He lets out a low moan as if he didn’t expect you to be so bold. You lay your head back against his pounding chest, his breathing shallow as his chin rests on the top of your head; his hands are now resting on your hips. You are slowly swaying your hips side to side while your dainty hands reach over your head and around Benedict’s neck. Your fingers gently rake the nape of his neck. 

Benedict is stunned and his cock, hard. It’s almost as if he doesn’t know what to do but stand there with his hands on your hips.

You purr in his ear, “Touch me…”

Benedict’s hands slowly smooth from your hips over your black lacy dress to your stomach.

“Higher…” you whisper.

His hands slide up your rib cage. 

“Higher still…” you smile onto his earlobe.

His hands oh so slowly slide onto your heaving breasts and you let out a whimper of pleasure into his ear. Benedict’s throbbing erection is pressing hard against the small of your back as you teasingly jut your ass out against him. Just then, Benedict roughly swirls you around to face him, his hands firmly grasping your upper arms. Sheer desire burning in his eyes and (almost) fear in yours – you’ve never seen that expression at the office before. 

Benedict quickly grabs your hand and pulls you out of the crowd, passed dancers, passed your co-workers and into the hallway of the hotel. 

You shout, hesitating, “Uh, wait – hold on! I can’t run in these.” He turns to look at you as you pull off the 5-inch heels. “Uhm, where are we going exactly?” 

“To my room…” he growls and grabs your hand once again to fly down the hall into room 137.

Benedict flings open the door and swings you in; you can barely keep your balance. He locks the door and neglects to switch on the ceiling light, allowing only the bedside table lamp to give a soft orange glow to the room. The light shun only on the left side of Benedict’s body leaving his right side in pitch darkness. His eye fixed on you excitedly shivering by the side of the bed. He walks up to you never breaking his gaze.

He cocks his head to one side, “Are you trembling?” his voice so sinister you can feel the vibrations in your stomach.

“…Maybe…”  
You couldn’t lie to him, not when you’re nervously horny like that. 

You are dying for him to touch you again but that champagne-fueled confidence is dwindling. 

“Where is that confident girl that was rubbing her ass against my cock a moment ago?” his grey eyes now narrow. 

Hearing him speak that way gave you all the courage you need to pull his face into yours and ravish his full pink lips with yours.

Benedict’s arms wrap around your waist and press you against his rock hard erection. A moan escapes your throat in between kisses. You shove him away and take a step back as you watch him watch you unzip your dress, falling to the floor revealing your matching black lace bra and thong. 

You take a step forward when he says, “Put your shoes back on.”

Turned on by his request (and the whole scenario) you comply and put your spiked heels back on. You stand there feeling absolutely sexy having Benedict stare you up and down in just your underwear and heels, “Come here,” he growls.

You place your hands on his chest and look into his dilated grey eyes – nothing but black irises. His veiny hands trail down your arms onto your bare ass cheeks, you gasp in delight.

“You have a fantastic ass,” he smoothly says as his other hand glides over around to your slick front. You jump from sensitivity, his fingers lightly grazing the moist material of your thong.

“You’re soppy wet, woman,” he pauses, “I need to taste you…”

Your eyes shoot open in shock while Benedict climbs on the bed, leaning back on his elbows, hooded eyes aching for you to follow.

Suddenly, panic sweeps over you. No one’s ever “tasted” you before. You were nervous and yet curious. You reach his knees that are hanging off the side of the bed; his perfect lips form a smile that reminds you of “Office Ben”, so kind, so polite and courteous. This new side of Ben was so tantalizing though..you want to see more. 

You proceed to crawl over his lap and straddle his very tight trousers. He sits up to devour your mouth, his hands finding the back of your bra and unclasps it, throwing it behind you. Your breasts spill onto his face to his pleasure. He hungrily sucks on one nipple and plays with the other in his hand. Your fingers comb through his wavy brown hair as you throw your head back with a subtle moan. You grind your wet thonged crotch onto his erected member through his pants. You want to rip his clothes off. As you pull off his jacket and fling it behind you, he quickly lies back down and looks up at you. 

“Sit on my face,” he demands.

You slowly crawl over his torso and give him one last sloppy kiss before heading, well, to his head. You straddle the sides of his head, catching your reflection on the mirror in front of you a few feet away. Your hips trembling above him, you look down between your thighs at Benedict’s waiting head.

He inhales deeply with his eyes closed, “My God…you smell divine…lower your cunt onto my face now.” With that monstrous voice, you did as he said. His long tongue quickly finding its way into your wet sex hole and plunging itself in and out with great rhythm. You can barely stay up straight, this sensation is so new to you and you love it. Benedict noticed you were tipping forward and quickly gave his hands to you for assistance. Your hands grabbing onto his for balance and support as you were being consumed below.

The sounds of him eating you; the sloppy, wet smacking sounds coming from between your legs are all too much for you to bear. Benedict begins to moan a tune into your pussy as you shout his name loudly. You want more, you wanted to come, but you want this new feeling to last. You begin to writhe on his face, whimpering and panting. So much panting you are becoming thirsty.

“Mmmmm, mmmmm” he vibrated inside your quivering cunt and just when you thought you were about to lose your shit, he muffles, “Fuck my face.”

He didn’t have to ask twice. You start riding his head like a horse. With the help of his two hands still holding yours, you essentially begin humping his face with reckless abandon, each movement bringing you closer to the edge as you watch yourself fucking Benedict’s face.

His tongue continues to toy with your hole and over your engorged clit in a circle 8 motion and you bite your bottom lip to hold back your explosion. Benedict resurfaces with his shiny face from below you and demands, “Come for me…come on my face…now!” 

You oblige his wish and exploded all over his mouth and precious cheekbones. You scream as you squirt all that has been pent up in your uterus for the last three months. You collapse to the side onto the hotel pillows, still panting, sweat on your face and chest. Benedict rises up from his position, grabs a blanket and wipes his face of you.

Your chest still heaving, he lays back down beside you on his side with a warm smile just like “Office Ben”.

“Th-thank you…for that…” you sigh with a relaxed smile. He places a kiss on your lips where you taste yourself, turning you on a bit.

“The pleasure was all mine, darling. Been wanting to do that for quite some time now,” he plants another kiss on your forehead this time. His hand resting on one of your breasts, lightly jiggling it. 

“Now I get to return the favor…” you giggle and climb on top of Benedict’s body, his arms embracing you as your head lies on his chest. He kisses the top of your head.

“Mmm, yes. Rest for a bit first, dear. You must be exhausted,” he soothes your back with his roaming hands along your spine.

“But,” you yawn on cue, “I’m not sleepy…” The post-orgasm sleepiness kicked in making you suddenly sleepy as Benedict’s chest rumbles with some song he’s gently humming to you to sleep. 

 

The sun is shining through the hotel room window onto your face, gently waking you. You quickly sit up in bed in a panic, “Where am –“ 

You realize it is morning and you’re still in Benedict’s hotel room, naked, under sheets and…alone?

“Ben?”

Benedict pops out of the bathroom with a smile brighter than the sun, “Good morning, darling!” He is in a hotel robe and walks over to you, freshly shaven and cleaned. He sits beside you and kisses you fully on the lips, “I was wondering when you would wake up, Sleeping Beauty. Breakfast’s arrived.”

You stretch your arms above your head and yawn, “Oh, good! I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon. What is it?”

Benedict lifts the platter cover, “Eggs.”


End file.
